"Too many hard times with himself," he
summed it up.--"Droopy. Needs a bracer. Needs to get back in the
harness--that's the only medicine for him."
He had been thinking about that very seriously of late. Ernestine was at
least in position now to show the possibilities of the situation, and
working with Karl would do more for her in a month than working along
this way would do in five. Why not? No matter how long they waited it was
going to be hard at first. The deep lines in Karl's face furnished the
strongest argument against further waiting.
"What have we here?" he asked, picking up one of the embossed books lying
open on the table near Karl.
"I presume that's my Bible," Karl replied.
"Has it come to this?" the doctor asked dryly.
"Didn't we ever tell you the story of my Bible?"
"No. You never did. I never suspected you had one."
"Oh yes; the Bible was the first book of this sort I had. It was sent to
me by some home missionary society, some woman's organization--"
"Fools!" broke in Parkman.
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